


World of Ruin

by foxjar



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Era, Drama, Established Relationship, Horror, M/M, Minor Gladiolus Amicitia & Prompto Argentum & Noctis Lucis Caelum & Ignis Scientia, inspired by the purge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-08
Updated: 2020-05-08
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:40:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23690980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxjar/pseuds/foxjar
Summary: Noctis visits Lestallum for the first time in ten years, but something is amiss in the town he thought he knew.
Relationships: Minor or Background Relationship(s), Noctis Lucis Caelum/Ignis Scientia
Comments: 2
Kudos: 18
Collections: Three Day Rental: A Horror Themed Flash Exchange Round 1





	World of Ruin

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ThatScottishShipper](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatScottishShipper/gifts).



The streets of Lestallum never shined this bright before the long night began. But back then, it never had to. Lestallum was just a town then; now it's a bastion of hope.

The streets are more packed now, crammed with boxes of supplies and makeshift dwellings. While the town isn't as glamorous as it once was, it's still full of life. That's what matters most to Noctis.

He nods to the people he, Ignis, and Prompto pass by, their clothes dirtied and worn down. If this were ten years ago, he might have smiled. But the time for smiles is long past; now is the time for action.

Soon he will fight Ardyn. Soon the morning light will return.

After meeting back up with his friends at Hammerhead, they decided to stock up on supplies in Lestallum, the hub for the present day's last flicker of humanity. If Noctis' resolve hadn't set in after seeing the endless expanse of night all around them, it would have after seeing the state of Lestallum. Although his friends still revere him as their king, these people are different.

He can see that their scars are woven deep, digging into their bodies and dragging them down. They eye him with suspicion and scorn.

Noctis can't blame them. He can hear their silent questions, screamed through closed lips: "Where were you when we needed you?"

If someone asked him, he'd probably apologize. What more is there to say? He wasn't here, not for ten long years, but he's here now.

Noctis might not be able to change the past, but he can save the future.

One woman steps in front of them, bowing awkwardly. There are scars across her nose and chin, and she has a bandage wrapped around her head, stained with blood.

"Welcome, Prince Noctis," she says, and Noctis doesn't bother correcting her. Does it matter now? Prompto starts to mention that he is their king — that he has been for a decade now — but Noctis touches his shoulder. The woman waves to someone off to the side of the street in one of the makeshift shelters, built up with old crates. She's brought a tray with a large pitcher and cups, to which she offers Noctis.

"We don't have much," the woman continues, "but you're welcome to it."

The drink is thick and red, sweet like wine. When they all finish, Noctis thanks her profusely, holding her hands with his own.

"Your sacrifices won't be in vain," he says, emotions making his words heavy.

The woman smiles. "Neither will yours."

With that, the woman takes the empty glasses and leaves. Further down the street, a man offers them baked sweets, soft with cream filling; after another block, someone else has more for them to drink. To wash down the pastries.

It's an odd sort of procession, all to welcome their liege back home. It's nothing like the events he remembers held to honor his father, but this is fine. This is perfect.

While Gladio left them in the parking lot to ponder the wares set up along the main street, the others pressed deeper into the town. Noctis wanted to see how people have been fairing. What's left of his kingdom.

And a part of him wanted to look through the masses of people to see if there were any of the familiar faces from his past. Although it makes his heart heavy, he doesn't see many of the people he knew before. But this could just mean they're at another settlement. Somewhere safe.

Or it could mean that they're dead.

Ignis has tried to answer his inquiries to the best of his ability. Although they've tried to keep tabs on everyone, sometimes it's been impossible. Sometimes people just disappear, fading away like mist.

It's reasonable to assume that daemons found them, tearing their limbs apart with ease as if they're dolls. And with how numerous they are, creeping up to the fortifications built around Lestallum, such a fate doesn't surprise Noctis. They loom over them, Iron Giants with their massive swords and mindflayers that float above the ground, tentacles writhing. Noctis wonders how anyone can sleep with all of the creaking as the Iron Giants move, trying to find a weak spot. Anywhere that lacks enough light to deter them.

When Noctis first asked why they let the daemons wander around like that, Ignis tried to explain.

"It would be impossible to fight them all," Ignis had said. "They never stop coming. Sometimes we go to clear them out, but usually only when we need to get through. It's a waste, otherwise — of time, energy, and lives."

All the more reason to end this as quickly as possible, then. Despite all of the regrets and dreams that still anchor him to life, Noctis knows he has to let go. He just wishes it didn't have to be so soon after he met back up with everyone. There are so many things he wants to say, but if he starts now, he isn't sure he'll ever be able to stop. If only he had a lifetime to tell his friends how much they mean to him.

And then there's Ignis. They haven't kissed since Noctis came back, and whenever they touch — a pat on the shoulder or elbows butting — Ignis jerks away. The thought that Ignis might have had time to reconsider their relationship from ten years ago gnaws at him. It has been a whole decade, after all. Noctis wouldn't have expected him to wait for him like that, but it still hurts.

They wait for Gladio at the Leville after making their way through the town. The rooms aren't as luxurious as they once were: the beds are crammed together, the wallpaper stained and peeling. More crates of supplies line the walls, some labeled as different kinds of weapons: knives, guns. Noctis hates that it's come to this desperation of having to live in a constant state of fear, but it'll all be over soon.

The sounds of the daemons outside are only a dull hum this deep into the town. Noctis never forgets that they're out there, but he's still able to fall asleep. Some things never seem to change, at least.

He's still mentally exhausted from his deep sleep inside the crystal, but that doesn't hinder his senses now. Every sound feels new: Ignis' steady breaths, Prompto's light snoring, people shuffling through the hotel. It's become the home for many, so he doesn't find that strange.

But something about the silence unsettles him. Where are all the people talking? Preparing for trips outside of the town? When they first arrived, it all seemed so loud. So lived in.

Now there's just silence, prickling at the back of Noctis' neck. But maybe this is how the town is now; maybe everything dies down after a certain hour. Maybe their eternal vigil ceases for a brief respite.

But the steps outside come closer, closer. The room they're staying in is at the end of the hall, so no one should be coming down here.

Unless there's something here they want.

The doorknob turns, so slowly that if Noctis weren't watching, he might not have noticed. If he weren't already half-awake, he wouldn't have seen.

Glossy, bright eyes peer back at him as the door creaks open. Even as he's shaking Ignis awake, the room erupts with sound. One person slinks into the room, then another, and another. Prompto's bed is the closest to the door, and they swarm to him first, knives and swords slashing down. Noctis screams, but his body is so heavy; he can't move, can't summon a weapon.

It's a nightmare unfolding right in front of him, and all he can do is watch. Adrenaline courses through him, tears falling down his face, and finally he manages to roll off of the bed. His knees are shaky as he clutches at the comforter on the bed, but Ignis is yelling at him now. Demanding the unthinkable of him.

"Out! The window!"

Is Ignis really telling him to leave? What about Prompto? His mind is all muddled now, even as Ignis screams at him. The knives piercing Prompto's body are all a blur like they're moving in slow motion.

But it isn't everyone else who's moving slowly — it's Noctis, feet dragging across the floor. Ignis pulls him to the window, wrenching it open before shoving him out onto the balcony. They're climbing up over the railing when Noctis looks down, vision swimming. The town has suddenly come to life with seemingly every resident in attendance, watching the debacle.

"Why aren't they doing anything, Ignis? Why are they just standing there?"

Once they're up on the roof, Noctis realizes he was wrong. They aren't just standing there; they are cheering, their voices loud and booming. None of this makes any sense, and if he didn't have Ignis to push him forward, he doesn't think he could continue. Ignis is the only one pressing him forward now.

"We have to go back," Noctis says, swaying. Ignis grabs his shoulder to steady him. "For Prompto."

"Listen to me, Noctis. We must keep going. It's what Prompto would have wanted."

The cheering from below seems so far away for a moment, so distant.

"'Would have?' What do you mean, 'would have?'"

"He's gone, Noctis."

Prompto can't be dead. Just a few minutes before, Noctis was listening to him snore in the bed beside his. The people who had forced their way into the room couldn't have killed him; it just isn't possible.

The screaming from the crowd of people is deafening now, making Noctis' ears ring. They hurl insults at him, shouting at him that he's unworthy of being their king. That he's unfit to lead anyone or anything.

If this were before his father had died, Noctis might have believed them. But things have changed now — Noctis has changed. It isn't about who is fit to rule; it's about who has the power to save them.

"If you perish here, then we will all die," Ignis says, pulling at his arm. "Or have you forgotten your duty?"

Of course he hasn't. If there's one thing Noctis hasn't forgotten, it's that.

Noctis Lucis Caelum will die to give the world life anew, but not today. Not here in Lestallum. Ardyn is waiting for him back in Insomnia. Waiting for the end that only Noctis can give him.

So they run, bodies still groggy as they make their way across the rooftops. When Noctis is about to fall, feet slipping beneath him, it is Ignis who pulls him back to safety. His vision swims as splotches of color dart past his eyes.

Ignis says there's a way out of the town, one that's rarely used anymore. It's through the sewers, but they've had difficulty setting up adequate lighting due to how many daemons there are. It might be their only chance unless they manage to sneak past the crowd.

"They want to kill me," Noctis says.

"I know." Ignis acknowledging it makes it all feel more real, like a breath of air washing over him.

Noctis feels so useless not being able to use any of his powers. When he tries to summon a weapon, his head starts to throb, pain pulsing through his skull. He's been back for such a short amount of time, and yet he's already made a mess of things. Now he can't even protect the man he loves.

"I think she put something in the drink," Noctis says. "That woman with the bandages."

"It's likely they all had a part in it." Noctis can't see Ignis' face, but he can hear the strain in his voice. He can't imagine how much it must hurt to be betrayed by the people he thought were trying to help him protect the last of humanity. "I was a fool to trust them. I'm sorry."

"This isn't your fault."

One moment Noctis is full of energy, and the next Ignis has to drag him. He knows he can't let himself die here, but it'd be so much easier. And what about Gladio? Are they supposed to just leave him, too?

The thought that they won't all be together in the end gnaws at him, twisting his stomach with pain. It was all he wanted. A final wish from the last king.

Noctis has trusted Ignis with his life for as long as he can remember. He trusts him now, too, and he doesn't blame him for being wrong. He just wants the best for Noctis; he couldn't have known.

There's a group of people at the end of the alley, surrounding the entrance to the sewer. Noctis is still dizzy, but he can make out at least six people. Maybe more.

Can they make it through?

They make their way to the ground, with Ignis helping him slide down a canopy over a shopfront. Noctis remembers this place: they bought food here years ago. They laughed here, pretending for a while that all was well in the world. Noctis' duties crept up on him, ever-lurking, but he hadn't understood how dire they were then. He didn't know.

He can't feign that same ignorance now.

"When I tell you to run, do it," Ignis whispers, breath hot on his ear. "Please. No arguing."

Ignis can't be telling Noctis to leave him too, can he? Like they left Prompto back at the hotel?

"But —"

The moment Ignis pulls him in for a kiss, lips rough against his own, it feels like there might be some hope for the world again. But that's not what this kiss means. Ignis isn't telling him that they have a future together; he's saying he'll give his life for the world.

"I never stopped loving you, Noct," he says, thumbs brushing along his jaw. Noctis cups his face, feeling his scars, a symbol of everything they have sacrificed. "I just thought it would be easier for you if I…"

Even though Noctis tries to hold him in place, to keep him from leaving, Ignis turns from him.

"It's not your fault." Noctis ignores the tears coursing down his face. When Ignis looks at him for the last time, he's crying, too. "Stop blaming yourself."

With their last words shared, Ignis leaves him. He draws the crowd away from the sewer entrance, knocking out a few of them in the process. But the noise draws more people, pouring in through the streets to surround Ignis.

Noctis wavers. The grating is open now, but he can't find it in himself to step in just yet.

Then come the screams, piercing the eternal night air. Noctis tells himself not to check, begs himself not to, but he can't keep his eyes from looking. The people have swarmed around Ignis, pressing in on all sides. They're too close for him to be able to stand a chance now, aren't they?

It's when the crowd starts to dissipate that he sees Ignis' body lying in the street. His chest is soaked with blood, his arms twisted at odd angles.

Noctis has to bite at his fingers to keep from screaming, tears blurring his vision now even more than whatever he was drugged with.

And yet even through the blur of his tears, he can see the stream of red, creeping toward him. Ignis' blood, wanting to be with his king even in death.

Noctis rushes into the sewer, easing the grating back over him slowly. Every time it creaks, he stops and waits, heart hammering in his chest. But no one ever comes.

The sewer is dark, with a foul stench in the thick air that makes him gag, but at least it doesn't smell like death. He hadn't realized it before, but that might be the worst smell of all.

The smell of the end.

Whatever he was drugged with, it seems to be wearing off a bit. When imps screech around him, hopping to and fro, he's able to summon a sword to dispatch them. After they're dead, his knees sink into the muck as he gasps for breath. He won't be able to take much more of this, but he has to keep fighting for as long as he can.

For Ignis.

There is no light at the end of the tunnel, only more darkness. When he looks back, he can see the twinkling lights of Lestallum. From out here, they look so safe and unassuming. But Noctis knows better now. Not everyone is on his side — not even the people he has sworn to protect. The civilians of Eos who ended up caught up in the war curated by the Astrals.

Noctis is on his last legs when Gladio finds him, wandering around in the dark. The small light clipped to his jacket trembles in the moonlight, its glow darting across the pavement as the two friends meet. Gladio pulls him to his chest, heart thudding within, and Noctis finally feels safe again. He shouldn't, but he does.

Gladio asks him where Ignis is. Noctis doesn't know what to say. The past few hours don't feel real at all, and yet that one kiss still lingers in Noctis' mind, as clear as Gladio in front of him.

"Noct, what happened to Iggy?"

A shuffling sound comes from off in the grass, and at first, Noctis thinks it might be a daemon. But the figure has a light, just like Gladio's.

It's Prompto. He has bandages haphazardly wrapped around his head and his clothes are stained with blood, but he's alive. One arm is cradled in a makeshift sling, the once white fabric stained red with blood.

Noctis wants to hold him tight, to tell him that he's sorry for leaving him alone. But Prompto beats him to it, telling him that he doesn't blame him. That it's okay.

"And Ignis?" he asks, and Noctis finally finds the words.

"He didn't make it."

It wouldn't be right to tell them about how brutal Ignis' final moments were. But then again, they'll find out for themselves, won't they? Once Noctis has brought back the dawn, they'll come back for him.

Noctis wishes he could be there to help lay Ignis to rest. All he can do now is ensure the sunrise he fought so valiantly for comes to fruition.

It'll be the last thing Noctis does, but he vows to bring back the light — even for the people who hurt him on the path to do so.

For everyone. For the world.


End file.
